You Get What You Need
by Cori Lannam
Summary: Trying events teach Dan and Casey that what you want isn't always what you need. (D/C)


##  You Get What You Need 

by Cori Lannam 

"Isaac...." 

"I love my job, Dana, I really do." He kept his voice mild with only a hint of exasperation as he gathered up the papers he needed for the meeting. 

"I know you do, Isaac." 

"And do you know what it is I love most about my job?" 

"No, I don't," Dana replied with an almost imperceptible sigh. "But I'm sure you'll be happy to tell me." 

"What I love most about my job is that I no longer have to do anyone else's job." 

"So you're saying that dealing with Dan and Casey is my job." 

He beamed at her, a carefully measured sarcastic beam with just the right balance of levity and gravity necessary to make his point. "That's exactly it. I knew there was a reason I haven't fired you." 

Dana persisted as they walked out of his office and down the hall. "But they're fighting, Isaac. They never fight." 

"I suppose you dropping the subject would have been too much to hope for, but I've always been an optimistic man." He would let her go on about it until they reached the conference room; hopefully by then she would get it out of her system. If not, she was still going to stop. Since the stroke, his patience had decreased considerably, and he felt no great need to cater to Dana on this right now. 

"But they never fight." 

"They fight all the time." 

"They argue all the time." 

"I don't suppose there's any hope of you not explaining the difference to me, is there?" 

"This is important, Isaac," she said. "They're really angry this time. I don't know what happened, but they've barely spoken to each other for over a week." 

"I'm quite aware of that," he replied. "And it's starting to show on the air." 

"Which is why it's my problem," she said with exasperation. 

"Exactly." If a hint of a growl entered his voice, all the better. Dana needed to start learning how to handle problems like this on her own. Specifically, problems involving Casey. Anyone else she could wrestle into submission with one hand tied behind her back while enjoying a cup of coffee, but when it came to Casey, she completely lost every speck of self-confidence she possessed. "And now we have this Nigerian broadcast to worry about." 

"And what a joy this is going to be," Dana muttered as she pushed open the conference room door and they entered. 

He wasn't sure whether she meant the broadcast or the meeting. As he looked around the room on the way to his seat, he reflected that, either way, the remark was appropriate. Casey sat in his usual seat next to Natalie, but instead of taking the seat on the other side of Casey, Dan had usurped the seat across the table. The displaced Jeremy sat trapped next to Casey and across from Dan, squirming miserably and looking like he'd rather be anywhere else. Isaac couldn't blame him. The two anchors looked about as sullen as he had ever seen them. He hoped he wouldn't have to slap any wrists today. 

"Why are we here early, Isaac?" Dan asked as soon as Isaac was seated. "Run down's not for another half hour." 

"We have a new project," Isaac replied. "I'm sure you all recall that the World Youth Soccer Championships are being held in Nigeria next week." Dan rolled his eyes at the mention of soccer, but Isaac pretended not to see. "Now, normally this event would be a minor blip on the sports radar, but not this time. Jeremy, you want to tell everyone why?" 

"Sure," Jeremy said. "Nigeria just held their first real democratic elections in years, and for the first time there's hope of a real civilian government taking power. First time since their independence in 1960." 

"Too bad their first civilian president is going to be a former military general," Casey remarked wryly. "That doesn't bode well." 

Dan muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a remark about African politics and Casey's general lack of knowledge of same. Casey glared across the table at him. "You want to pipe up and share your wisdom with the rest of us?" 

"No, I wouldn't want to interrupt your speech," Dan answered in a saccharine tone. 

"Anyway," Jeremy jumped in hurriedly, glancing nervously from Dan to Casey. "The president-elect, General Obasanjo, and the interim president, General Abubakar, are using the tournament as a way to showcase the improvements they intend to make for the international press. It should be interesting to see if they can pull it off, considering the poor conditions and unrest there." 

"And that was Jeremy Goodwin, with today's political science lecture," Dana said with a small smile to lighten her jab. 

"Hey, you asked." 

"Actually, no, I didn't," Dana shot back, then smoothly took over again. "It'll be four days of elimination matches at the stadium in Lagos. They've been planning this for a while, but CSC has just decided to carry a number of the games live." 

"Don't tell me," Casey said. "Expanded coverage?" 

"That's right," Isaac said. "Luther wants to make a big deal out of this." 

"Presumably to try to cover up his abysmal record on covering every other racially charged event of the last few years," Dan said. 

"Be that as it may," Isaac went on. "We're going to be sending a team to Lagos on Friday - one reporter, one anchor, one producer and a small staff, in addition to the camera teams. Luther wants one of you two to go, but he doesn't care which one." 

Dan and Casey exchanged a wary look, and Isaac sighed internally. Neither one of them was going to want to be stuck with this job. In the end, he could probably persuade Luther to send someone else, but in the meantime, whichever one of them got chosen was going to make his life miserable for the next five days. 

"Natalie, you're going to be the producer," Dana put in. "Can you handle it?" 

She nodded confidently, although she did not look thrilled by the idea either. It would be a real feather in her cap to successfully produce an entire multi-day event, especially one with such major political implications. Still, the conditions would be poor, the preparation hasty and the travel grueling. "Of course. It'll be good experience." 

"Good girl," Isaac said encouragingly. With any luck, Dan and Casey would follow her mature example. "Now, there will be about six hours of coverage immediately before we go on with Sports Night. We'll show what we can live, but most of it will be tape-delayed." 

"But we'll make it plausibly live as much as possible," Dana added and Isaac nodded his agreement. "I think that's all we have on this for the moment. Isaac?" He shook his head slightly and Dana checked her watch. "We've got fifteen minutes left before the regular run-down. Go get something done." 

The room emptied within a few seconds. Isaac headed back down the hall to his office; with any luck, he could get in a couple of phone calls before the next meeting. But a moment later, a hand on his shoulder disabused him of that hope. "Isaac, can I talk to you for a minute?" 

With a sigh, he turned to face Dan. So it was already beginning. Idly, Isaac reflected that if he started a bidding war for who got to stay home, he could probably clean up. "What can I do for you, Danny?" 

Dan leveled his most serious look at Isaac, the look that meant he wanted something and was absolutely determined to get it. "Send me on this thing, Isaac." 

He had been expecting exactly the opposite request, and he stood and stared at Dan for a moment in surprise. "Send *you*?" 

"Yeah," Dan said, nodding earnestly. "I want to go." 

"You *want* to go?" 

"Well, want may not be exactly the right term," Dan admitted cautiously. "But I think it's a good idea for me to be the one to go." 

"Why?" He couldn't imagine Dan actually volunteering to cover soccer, let alone soccer that would require him to travel all the way to Africa. 

"Why should I be the one to go?" At Isaac's nod, Dan shrugged a little. "I just think it'd be good to be out of the country for a little while. Get away from things, and have something to occupy my mind. You know what I mean?" 

"No." 

"I can explain, if you want." 

"No. That's quite all right." Isaac shook his head and held up his hand. Details were not something he wanted from Dan on a regular basis anyway, and he certainly wasn't in the mood to listen to whatever story Danny had cooked up this time to explain away his strange behavior. 

"Then can I go?" 

Isaac looked at him with renewed suspicion. Dan was just a little too eager, almost nervous. Just how bad were things with Casey that Danny would want to get out of town so badly? He decided to see. "You know, the other person I'm sending is Bobbi Bernstein." 

Dan blinked once, but otherwise showed no reaction. "That's cool." 

"She's going to be at the anchor desk. You'd be out in the field doing interviews and updates." That hadn't been the plan at all, really, but now Isaac was curious to see just how far Dan could be pushed. 

"What hotel will we be staying at?" 

"I have no idea, but I'm sure it'll be miserable." 

"Oh, I hear they have some nice hotels in Lagos. Luther can afford to put us up someplace ritzy." 

Isaac shook his head with exasperation. "You're sure you want to do this? You know I'm going to try to talk Luther down from sending either of you." 

"I'm absolutely sure." Dan gave Isaac his most earnest, serious, responsible gaze, the one he only used when he was worried someone wasn't going to take him seriously if they knew what he was really up to. Isaac would have been concerned, except that he knew Dan would be far too busy to get into trouble in Nigeria, unless he was really trying. 

With a sigh, he gave in. "All right. You can go. But if you change your mind before Friday, don't think you're going to weasel your way back out of it." 

"It's a deal. Thanks, Isaac." Dan grinned briefly. 

He waved a hand in dismissal. "Don't thank me. It's your funeral." 

Dan grimaced. "Did you really have to say that? According to Jeremy, there are about a zillion different State Department travel warnings on Africa." 

Isaac smiled smugly. "You should have thought of that before you talked me into sending you there. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to at least reach my office before it's time to turn around and leave it again." 

"Okay. Thanks again, Isaac." There was a note of hesitancy now, and Isaac smiled to himself as he continued down the hall. 

"You're welcome." 

"I mean it, I owe you for this one!" 

Isaac shook his head with wry amusement as he finally entered his office. For Danny's sake, it was a very good thing he wasn't keeping track. 

*** 

"Dan and Natalie's last night for a while, people," Dana called as she walked through the studio two minutes before air time. "Let's make it a good one." 

"Yeah, give us something to remember," Dan called out in his turn, leaning back in his chair and grinning. 

Casey glanced over at him briefly before looking fixedly back down at his script. "So, you're leaving right after the show?" The first rule of cross-examination: never ask the opposition a question to which you don't already know the answer. 

Except when had Dan become the opposition? And since when did a conversation with him start as a cross-examination? 

"Yeah," Dan replied without looking in Casey's direction. "Everyone but me, Bobbi and Natalie are already over there, so we're catching the red-eye to London, then a flight to Lagos in the morning. Afternoon, their time." 

"They're troopers," Dana said, coming over and patting Dan fondly on the shoulder. 

Casey bit off the sarcastic remark that came as second-nature these days. He should try to be pleasant. He wanted to be pleasant. He wanted things to be normal again. "You seem pretty excited about it." 

Dan did look at him this time, but cautiously, as if he suspected it was a set-up to something nasty. It hurt, just for a moment, to see that look from his best friend. Then Casey sternly reminded himself that this was the way of things now. This was the way they had wanted it and, after two full weeks of it, the minute and a half before air time was hardly enough to change anything now. "Yeah," Dan finally replied, voice cool. "Can't wait to get the hell out of here. Nigeria should be a nice change. And I hear the hotel is real nice." 

He held Dan's gaze for a moment, then looked back down at his papers as stoicly as he could. While Casey figured Dan would have been the one roped into going anyway, this wasn't the way it was supposed to happen. Dan wasn't supposed to like it. He wasn't supposed to want to get away from Casey as badly as Casey wanted him to get away. They were supposed to fight it out, day by day until, at the bitter end, one of them, preferably Dan, was coerced into miserably packing his bags and heading into exile. 

Dan wasn't supposed to want to leave him. And, when all was said and done, Casey wasn't supposed to want him to leave. They were partners. It wasn't right. 

He sighed a little and shifted in his chair, wishing he could ease the deep feeling of discontent inside him. Beside him, Dan was laughing at something Kim had just said from the control room. "If I meet that cute Dutch player you like, you want me to get his autograph for you?" Casey couldn't hear Kim's reply, but Dan laughed again. "Okay, you got it," he said. "But I think that might be prohibited under the Geneva Convention." 

"Sixty seconds live." Dave's disembodied voice said over the PA. Casey took a deep breath and tried to clear his thoughts. He didn't want Danny to leave. Not that he suddenly had a plan for restoring their friendship or anything, but if Dan was all the way across the ocean, there wasn't even the possibility that a reconciliation might spontaneously occur. And without that possibility, Casey found himself skating the edge of a very real and unfamiliar panic. 

In ten years, they had never been through anything like this. Arguments aplenty, annoyance on a daily basis, but, for the first time in ten years, there was no joy or comfort there. And it terrified Casey that he could see no light at the end of the tunnel. 

Worst of all, he wasn't even sure anymore whose fault the whole thing was. 

"Thirty seconds," Dave's voice said. Casey glanced up at the digital countdown with a start. It was rare for him to lose track of time right before a broadcast; he wondered if it were yet another symptom of how messed up his head was getting. 

"Hello, Casey," a familiar female voice said from a few feet away, and Casey spotted Bobbi Bernstein coming in from the outer corridor, still in her long overcoat. "Hi, Dan." 

Casey lifted a hand in greeting just as Dan looked up at her as well. "Hey, Bobbi," Dan greeted warmly. "Ready for the great adventure?" 

"I don't know what to be more worried about," she responded as she paused in front of them. "The history of political unrest or being in a hotel with you for a week." 

"I dunno," Dan said. "I think I'd take me over a group of armed rebels any day." Casey blinked in mild surprise at the light teasing in both of their tones, quite a change from the last time he had seen them interact. Obviously, he had missed yet another significant event while not talking to Dan. 

"Please don't joke about that," Jeremy said from the control room, with a hint of desperation. Casey didn't blame him. If he were still friends with Dan, he'd be expressing similar concerns himself. 

"Fifteen live," Dave said. 

Dana's voice followed immediately after. "Good show, everybody." 

"I'll see you in a little while," Bobbi said to Dan before moving off the set. 

With a herculean effort of concentration, Casey focused on the imminent broadcast just as they went on the air. More easily than he thought he could, he slipped into the flow, falling back into the one routine that he and Danny could still handle together. As usual, it was the quickest hour of his day, and he could have sworn only moments had passed when suddenly Dan was saying his on-air farewells and the camera lights went out. 

They had barely gotten themselves unhooked from the wires when Jeremy appeared in front of the desk. "All your bags are down in the car," Jeremy told Dan perfunctorily. "The driver is just waiting for you all to finish here." 

"Great," Dan said. "I'll be ready in a few minutes." 

"Right," Jeremy said. "And then you can go." 

"That's right," Dan said, giving Jeremy a strange look. 

"Good." 

"Um, Jeremy? Why are you talking to me?" 

"What do you mean?" 

"Shouldn't you be kissing Natalie good-bye or something?" 

Casey watched with distant amusement as Jeremy bent over the desk to stare Dan in the eye. "Take care of her." 

Dan returned his gaze with equinimity. "I will. Promise." 

"Don't let anything happen to her." Jeremy obviously did not want to be mollified, and Casey couldn't help but wonder if the real reason he wasn't kissing Natalie good-bye was that she had kicked him out of the control room for fussing too much. "I mean it, Dan. Man to man, here." 

"I promise, Jeremy. Nothing's going to happen to her. I'll bring her back safe and sound." 

"Good," Jeremy said. He still sounded unconvinced, but then Natalie was calling to him and, with a last significant look at Dan, he jogged off. 

They watched him go, then Dan lay his microphone carefully down on the desk in front of him and smoothed the lapels of his jacket. "Well, this is it," he said at last. 

Casey was grateful for the broken silence, although he had no idea what to follow up with. "Yeah," he said after a moment. "It is." 

Dan turned to him with a solemn look. "I think this is good. That I'm going away for a while. Maybe if we're not together constantly, we can cool down and start working things out when I get back." 

A mute nod was the best Casey could manage in response. Here was the opportunity. The perfect moment for a hug, even a handshake, in farewell, but which would mean so much more. It would be a first step. He wanted it, but he could not make himself move. 

Dan waited for a moment, then nodded briskly in return, stood up and walked away. Natalie was waiting a few feet away with Dan's coat, which he accepted and pulled on as they made their way out toward the elevators through a crowd of well-wishers. 

Casey watched in silence until they turned the corner out of sight. Then he slowly stood up himself and walked back toward his office, alone. 

*** 

"Coach?" Dan said in disbelief. "We have to take a seven hour trans-Atlantic flight in the middle of the night, and the network booked us in *coach*?" 

"Danny, it's okay," Natalie said with a hand on his arm. "I'm sure the seats will be perfectly comfortable anyway." 

"It is a mostly empty flight," the British Airways employee behind the counter said sympathetically. "You'll have plenty of room to stretch out." 

"That isn't the point," Dan insisted. He decided to spare them the speech he had ready on what the point really was: that they were being shipped overseas at the whim of a man with a fleet of limousines at his command, a man who could damn well afford to send them first class. "How much is it to upgrade?" 

"Danny!" Natalie hissed and pulled at his sleeve. "That's going to cost a fortune." 

Bobbi shook her head as well. "We'll be fine. The network's not going to reimburse us for upgrading to first class." 

"You know, the last couple of weeks have really sucked for me, personally," Dan said conversationally. He pulled out his wallet and plunked his Visa card down on the counter. "And, also personally, I have no intention of struggling to be comfortable in coach when I could be comfortable without any problems in first class." He ignored Natalie's noise of protest and pushed the card toward the airline clerk. "Upgrade all three of us, please. For the full itinerary." 

"Dan-" Natalie and Bobbi both started to say in unison, but Dan held up his hand to silence them. 

"Uh-uh. Not a word about it, or you're both swimming to Africa. Thank you," he added to the airline worker as she handed him the revised tickets. 

She smiled. "Enjoy your flight. First class is entirely empty on this leg, so you should have a nice, relaxing trip." 

"Are you sure about this, Dan?" Bobbi said as she accepted the packet of tickets. 

"Sure, why not?" he replied. He practically had to force the tickets into Natalie's hand. "We only live once." 

"Well, then, thank you." Bobbi smiled, and Dan heaved an internal sigh of relief that she wasn't quite the psycho-chick she had once seemed. With any luck, she'd be quite pleasant company for this assignment, now that they had their problems worked out. 

A lot more pleasant than other friends he could name.... 

He firmly nipped that thought in the bud just as the gate attendant announced the first class boarding call for their flight. For once, he was actually tired at this time of night, and it was a pleasure to sink down into the soft leather seat he was going to call home for the next several hours. Natalie settled into the seats behind him, with Bobbi across the aisle from her, and they sat in companionable silence as a trickle of coach passengers filed past them. 

Dan stared out into the blackness, which was broken only by the glimmer of lights from the runways out beyond their plane. An overwhelming urge washed over him to sprint off the plane and not stop until he reached the safety of his apartment; he squeezed his eyes tightly shut until it passed, then fought down a nervous laugh. Truly absurd, to be running off to another continent just to get away from his best friend. If he could even call Casey that anymore. If he thought Casey even wanted to be called that anymore. 

The roar of the engines starting came as a relief, ending the still-niggling urge he had to get off the plane and call in sick for the rest of this assignment. He closed his eyes and let his mind drift while the plane taxied out to the runway and the flight attendant went through the safety procedures with a cool British calm he appreciated. The normal perkiness of American flight attendants would be more than he suspected he could stand at the moment. He was still lost in that thought when a soft jolt alerted him to the plane leaving the ground. 

"Oh, this really is nice," Natalie said with a sigh as she accepted a glass of champagne from the flight attendant. 

"Told you so," Dan smirked, tilting his head to peer back at her around his seat. He found the lever to recline his seat and laughed as Natalie playfully kicked the back in protest. With a deep breath, he relaxed and sipped his complimentary beer. The alcohol seeped through him, bringing a pleasant lethargy that finally allowed him to stop thinking about Casey. When the woman brought him a pillow and a surprisingly fluffy blanket, he stretched out as much as he could and switched off the light above his seat. 

He had just reached the pleasant middle state of drowsing where his mind felt frozen somewhere above his body when Natalie's voice right by his ear brought him back to himself with a jerk. "I think Bobbi's asleep," Natalie whispered loudly from just behind him. 

"Good for her," Dan muttered and tried his best to shift position. The seats were well-cushioned and roomy for an airplane, but there was still only so much space with which to work. 

"You're not asleep, are you, Danny?" she whispered again. 

"No, Natalie," he said with a sigh. "You've seen to that with great success." 

"Oh, good," she said, and he heard her bounce to her feet. A moment later, she appeared in the aisle beside his seat, blanket and pillow gathered up in her arms. Dan groaned, but was forced to sit up when she made to sit down on his legs. "Now we can talk." 

"Natalie, this is a plane trip, not a slumber party." Even as he spoke, he knew it was pointless. Natalie had energy, therefore sleep was not an option. "We've got a long day tomorrow. Today, actually." 

"Don't worry, the day's getting shorter by the minute now," Natalie said and curled up under her own blanket next to him. "But we've still got plenty of time." 

"Time for what?" Dan threw himself back in his seat with an exasperated huff. He felt stupid sitting there with a blanket and pillow in his lap, with Natalie looking at him like she wanted to talk about the dreamy new boy in homeroom. 

"For us to share. For us to bond. For you to tell me what's been going on the last couple of weeks." 

"Oh, for God's sake, Natalie," Dan protested, and pressed his pillow against his face. She wasn't an innocent schoolgirl at all; she was a devious witch woman. How long had she and Dana spent plotting out the course of attack, the line of questioning? "Nothing's going on." 

"You hate being away from the desk, Danny. And you hate soccer even more than that." 

"So what?" 

"So Isaac said you practically begged him to send you on this, even though you probably could have gotten out of it." 

"Again, I must ask you, so what?" 

"So I was puzzled by this odd turn of events, until I remembered that - oh yes! - you and Casey haven't been able to say more than two civil words in a row to each other for the last couple of weeks." 

"If I set a tape player to say 'so what?' over and over again at appropriate intervals, can I go to sleep?" Dan said into the pillow. 

"You're running away from Casey, aren't you?" 

"Natalie -" 

"Danny, is this something serious? Because -" 

Dan brought the pillow down with a dull thump and shifted onto his side until he was staring into her earnest brown eyes. "Natalie. Listen to me. Casey and I are going through a rough time right now, yes. We've got some things to work out, yes. And yes, I came on this trip thinking if we were away from each other, we'd be more inclined later on to work the things out that we have to work out. Maybe we just need to stop getting on each other's nerves for a little while." 

He paused, but she just kept looking at him, wide-eyed. "Now that's as much as I'm going to say on the subject. I appreciate your concern - and Dana's, and Jeremy's, and whoever else you talked to about this - but I'm trying to get away from those things I mentioned, not dwell on them. Okay?" 

She nodded faintly and Dan instantly felt like a heel. He still didn't want to talk about it, but now he felt guilty for not wanting to talk about it. After all, he was the biggest proponent around of talking to friends about problems, even problems with other friends. 

But in this case, it was out of the question. With a mental shrug, he tossed it onto the heap with all the other Casey-inspired things he had to feel guilty about. 

They sat in silence for a long time. Dan leaned his forehead against the window, the glass almost painfully cold against his skin. There was nothing but blackness above and below them; they had to be a good ways out over the ocean now. 

Eventually, Natalie spoke again, softly. "If you ever want to talk about those things, I'll listen." Her head settled gently onto his shoulder and he found himself blinking rapidly. Every now and again, when he descended too far into self-pity, it was good to be reminded that he was a very, very lucky person. 

"Natalie," he said gently a few minutes later. She didn't respond, and he turned his head to see her fast asleep against his side, clutching her pillow in her arms. Trying to move as little as possible, he managed to wedge his own pillow in between his face and the bulkhead. As he finally closed his eyes, as comfortable as he could make himself, his last waking thought was that Bobbi would have a field day with this little display if she woke up before they did. But for once, he just didn't care. 

*** 

"The brochures don't do it justice," Dan commented with a grimace of distaste. They were only two blocks from their rather luxurious hotel, but the metropolis surrounding them looked more like a shanty town than a capital city, with run-down buildings, malfunctioning traffic signals, and a fetid smell that seemed to drift down over them from the menacing haze permanently fixed above the city. 

"It's amazing how poor most of the people are, when the country produces so much oil," Natalie said, trying to get a good look around while still keeping up with Dan and Steve, their portable camera operator. 

"It is like this throughout the entire nation," Steve said. His Liberian accent was still thick, although Dan knew he had lived in the United States since he was a teenager. "And unfortunately, the same is true in much of Africa. The problem is not a lack of wealth, but the corruption of those who control it." 

The raucous blare of car horns a few yards down the road made Natalie jump, and Dan put a calming hand on her shoulder, even though his own heart was racing. "God, this traffic makes Manhattan look like a cornfield in Iowa. It's like a twenty-four/seven rush hour." 

"Actually, only from about dawn until dark," an unfamiliar voice behind them added. "Few would be foolhardy enough to brave the roads without daylight unless there was no other choice. There are many bandits out then, you know. You would do well to be more careful when walking around Lagos." 

Dan turned at the same time as his companions to face the commentator. He was a smiling black man in a dapper Western suit, with a face Dan could swear he knew, but couldn't place, even as the man's accent stayed just outside identification. "Yes, they mentioned that to us at the airport. And at the hotel. And at the stadium when we were setting up." 

"As well they should have," the man said. "Western tourists are rare and precious commodities here, both for the honest and dishonest businessman." He paused, then smiled again. "You must excuse my presumption in speaking to you like this, but you seemed relatively unfamiliar with the city. I am not a native myself, but I've had a long education in some of the less impressive aspects of this beautiful continent." 

Before Dan could reply with his thanks, Natalie jumped in. "Excuse me, sir, but I think I recognize you. Are you Ntozake Nelson?" 

Right as she spoke the name, it all clicked together in Dan's head. The accent was South African; the face had been a mainstay on their monitors for several days back in September. The forty-one year old political dissident and distance runner who had shattered the world record against impossible odds and become a personal hero to most of the Sports Night staff. 

Nelson was smiling. "Yes, I am. It's very kind of you to remember me." 

"Well, we certainly should," Natalie replied eagerly. "Our network carried your Pan-Pacific race live, and we were all watching and cheering when you broke the record." 

"Ah, now that is certainly a fond memory for me as well," Nelson said. "You are from CSC, then?" At their nods, he went on, "I knew you were journalists from your camera, and American from your accents. You've come a long way for a football match." 

"As have you," Dan noted. 

"Indeed," Nelson said with a grin. "I am more a fan of football than even my own sport. And with the political situation surrounding this cup, well, I thought it wasn't one to miss." 

"So you think this could be a really significant event?" Dan asked with genuine curiosity. Ntozake Nelson had a personal history with political upheaval. 

Nelson shrugged. "The games themselves? No, not really. The elections just held? Maybe. I hope so. A true civilian government could make some important changes here. But I think these people have seen too many regimes come and go to place much faith in a simple changeover of power." 

Dan nodded slowly. "I see what you mean." 

"But where there is life, there is hope, yes?" Nelson was smiling again. "And where there is hope, there is a football match. You are going to the stadium now, I presume? Shall we walk together?" 

As they continued on their way, Dan felt a slightly silly grin start to form. He was talking with Ntozake Nelson and, with a little luck, could probably get him to agree to a one-on-one interview later on. Dan had never been one to be starstruck by an athlete, but Nelson was someone special, and Dan had much to thank him for. By lifting Casey out of his months-long depression with his inspirational marathon victory, Nelson had unknowingly given Dan his partner and friend back, and Dan would be forever grateful for that. 

It was still early morning back in New York, but Dan resolved to call the office later on. He'd tell Dana all about Ntozake and, just maybe, he could talk to Casey, too. Just for a minute. Just long enough to share this moment with him. Even now, that couldn't be beyond their reach. 

*** 

"Casey! Come here!" Dana called to him from the control room just as he was about to take his place at the anchor desk. "Danny's on the phone from Lagos, and guess who he met today?" 

"Who?" Casey asked as he went in and stood in front of Dana's seat. 

"Ntozake Nelson. You remember him, right?" 

"Of course." In spite of himself, Casey was impressed. He had seen only brief interviews with the marathon runner after his stunning victory at the Pan-Pacific Games last year, but he would have dearly loved to talk with him more extensively. "How'd Danny run into him?" 

"On the street in Lagos. Apparently they're staying at the same hotel. But here," Dana said, handing him the receiver. "He can tell you about it himself." 

"Dan?" Casey said into the phone, and at first heard only the crackling of a bad trans-Atlantic connection as an answer. 

"Hey," Dan's voice said at last, as if from a great distance. "Sorry, the phone lines aren't so hot here." 

"That's okay," Casey replied. "So, I hear you met Ntozake Nelson." 

"Yeah, we did. Oh man, Case, it was so cool. He's a great guy, and we had a great talk about sports and politics during the soccer games this afternoon." 

"Weren't you supposed to be - oh, I dunno - reporting on the soccer games?" Although the words were stringent, Casey's tone was gentle. He was finding it surprisingly easy to recapture their affectionate banter when Dan was so far away. Perhaps it was true, the saying that absence makes the heart grow fonder. He spared a hope that the effect would last even after the absence ended. 

"Yeah, well, that's why we have Bobbi here," Dan said. "She knows more about soccer than I do, anyway." 

"Who doesn't?" 

"Not Ntozake Nelson, that's for sure. We should hire the guy on as a color commentator. He almost made it interesting." Casey grinned at the admission, which was a lot, coming from Dan. "Anyway, he agreed to sit down with me for an interview after the tournament is over. You got anything you want me to ask for you?" 

"I'll have to think about it." Casey hesitated for a moment, then spoke softly. "But next time you see him, tell him thank you." 

Dan's reply was equally soft. "I will." There was a brief, but only slightly uncomfortable pause. "I guess you're about to go on the air." 

"Yeah." 

"Who's doing the show with you?" 

"Peter Lassker." 

"Oh, man." 

"I'm finding that out, yeah." 

"The whole week?" 

"Apparently." 

"Well," Dan said with a small laugh, "suddenly the soccer matches don't seem so bad." 

"Obviously you know Peter." 

"Mostly from reputation." Casey could almost hear Dan's grin from across the ocean. "Anyway, it's the middle of the night here and, speaking of soccer matches, I've got some to cover in just a few hours. And you've got a show to do." 

"Yeah," Casey agreed, then tried to find what it was he wanted to say next. "Take care of yourself. I don't want to be stuck with Peter Lassker forever." 

The silence went on for a good while this time, and Casey had just started wishing he could take back the words when Dan's voice returned. "I will. You take care of yourself, too. G'night." 

"Bye," Casey said, and waited for the click of disconnection before handing the phone back to Dana. 

"Well?" she said expectantly, but Casey wasn't in the mood for anymore soul-baring at the moment. 

"He's gonna interview Ntozake Nelson in a few days," he replied, immediately heading back out to the studio. 

"Well, I knew that!" she yelled out after him. 

Casey took his seat at the anchor desk; then, with a deep breath, he turned to his temporary co-anchor and attempted a friendly smile. 

The man, whose face Casey had seen frequently on West Coast Update, but only a handful of times in person, smiled eagerly back. "I just want you to know, Casey, how excited I am to be working with you this week." 

"Oh, believe me, Peter, I know." Casey let out the deep breath he had been holding and straightened the papers in front of him. Two minutes to air. He was convinced that they would be the longest two minutes in the show's history. 

"It's just that this is my first time doing Sports Night. Paul's been asked to fill in quite a few times, but this is the first time I've done it." Peter's eyes shone as he spun slowly around in his chair, taking in the studio as if he had never seen it before. 

"Is it really? I could have sworn you've filled in before." Not a second after the words left his mouth, Casey regretted it. As if the man needed any encouragement to keep talking. 

"No, really, I haven't. That's why it's such a great honor to be asked," Peter said. "I'm really very excited." 

"I can tell," Casey said with barely restrained irritation. He stood up, giving in to his need to not be at that desk for a minute more than he had to. "Excuse me." 

"Casey, where are you going?" Dana said over the loudspeaker, but he didn't bother to answer, since he was heading straight back for her anyway. 

He reentered the control room at a good stride and was standing in front of Dana before she had fully processed his approach. She stared at him blankly for a moment, and he would have been pleased, if he weren't already so put out. Getting Dana off balance usually meant he was having a good day. 

But not today. "Dana, what did I do to you?" 

"What are you talking about?" 

"What did I do to you that you're doing this to me?" 

"What am I doing to you?" She had that patient tone now, the one that meant she was going to tolerate him for the moment, at least until she found something better to do with her time. 

"You're sticking me with Petey the Wonder Boy over there as my co-anchor." 

"What's wrong with Peter?" 

"If he were a cocker spaniel, he'd be licking my face." 

"Enthusiasm is a good thing. You could use a little more of it yourself lately." 

"There's a fine line between a healthy enthusiasm and slobbering all over the anchor desk. I think our friend over there just crossed that line." 

"You want me to send Elliot over with a towel?" 

"I'm serious, Dana, I think someone should take him out for a walk before the show starts." 

"I really don't see what you're complaining about. When I asked you last week if you had a preference for substitute anchor, you said anyone would be an improvement. Wasn't that what you said?" 

Casey opened his mouth, then closed it again when he realized he had no response. He had, in fact, said something along those lines, and he had meant it, at the time. Dan was being a pain in the neck, a constant reminder of what had gone wrong, and his absence had seemed to offer the prospect of a week of peaceful broadcasting for Casey. But, like everything else in the past two weeks, it hadn't worked out the way Casey had anticipated. 

Dana was still looking at him with amusement, and Jeremy cast him a sympathetic look. Resolutely, he gathered his determination and looked right back at Dana. "I want another substitute anchor." 

"There's no reason for that. I'm sorry you don't like Peter, but he's a perfectly competent anchor." 

"He's going to drive me insane!" 

"In fact, maybe I'll ask Isaac if we can keep him." 

"You're walkin' on the edge there, Dana." 

She flashed him a sparkling smile. "You know, you're kinda cute when you're mad." 

"I'm serious." 

"I know you are. I think it's charming. Although our viewers might not agree. Which reminds me, you've got forty-five seconds to get back to your desk." 

"Fine," he said and turned to leave. Obviously, she had no intention of taking his complaints seriously. He would just have to suffer, and maybe make sure Peter got switched to decaf. 

"Casey," she called after him just as he reached the door. He turned slightly to look back at her. "Um... I was thinking. Wanna do something after the show?" 

This time he was the one left staring at her blankly. They never did anything together after the show, unless it was with a group of people. Doing something together by themselves would come too close to a date for either of their comforts, no matter how platonic they might insist it was. "Do something?" 

"Yeah, you know, dinner, or drinks," Dana said, shifting a little the way she did when she was nervous. "Or both. Or something else entirely, if you want." 

Still confused, Casey started to reply, then stopped. "Are you asking me out?" he said at last. 

"Don't be ridiculous," she said primly. "I already have a boyfriend. I just thought we could have dinner." 

Nominally, at least, not a date. Although Casey had momentarily harbored the hope that she had finally broken it off with the cheating scum she was dating. It would have taken a hell of a lot off his mind. "Sure," he finally replied. 

She smiled a little, still looking nervous. "Ten seconds. Get out there." 

Casey jogged back to his seat, and hastily got his microphone and earpiece into place. "Is everything okay?" Peter asked him, looking only slightly more nervous than Dana had. 

"Yeah," Casey said slowly as the last five seconds ticked by. "It's fine. Heads up." 

*** 

"So then Gordon goes, 'Why are you so upset that this Jordan guy is retiring? I'm sure someone just as good will come along by next year.' Can you believe that?" Dana was almost breathless with laughter as she handed Casey his beer and threw herself down on the couch beside him. Casey laughed with her before toasting her with the bottle and taking a long swig. Dana's chuckles died down quickly and she sat staring at her hands. "He's really a jerk, isn't he?" she said at last, voice low. 

"Yeah," Casey answered after a moment. "Dana, why are you still with that guy?" He wished he could tell her all the reasons she shouldn't be, but even if he had the courage, he doubted she would believe him. 

She looked up at him intently. "Why did you stay with Lisa for so long?" 

He studied her face for a long moment and put his beer down before answering. With Danny, it was easy to read his emotions from his eyes, but Dana was different. He never knew what she was feeling unless she wanted him to know. This time would be a risk. "She wasn't who I wanted to be with." 

Her gaze softened and intensified at the same time. "Neither is Gordon." 

This was it, he suddenly realized. Time to step up to the plate, or let it go for good. She was the one he wanted, had wanted off and on with varying intensity for the last fifteen years. And now she was offering him what he wanted, because she wanted it, too. 

Slowly, deliberately, he leaned forward and kissed her. 

Her lips were soft, pliant, opening easily under his. She gave the softest little sigh as he slipped his arms around her waist to draw her closer. His eyes closed and he let himself fall headlong into the sensations of the kiss. 

It felt like he always thought it would. The smell of too many hours in an office building, the feel of cool cotton fabric under his hands, the long curve of neck under his lips as he explored with touch what he knew all too well with vision. Best of friends, the joy of intimacy only increased by their mental closeness. He sighed and murmured his contentment in between kisses to the ear beneath his mouth. 

The closed-fisted blow across his jaw registered in his awareness a mere second before he registered the fact that his arms were suddenly empty. "You son of a bitch!" Dana was yelling at him from several feet away as he opened his eyes and struggled to focus them. "What the hell is going on here?" 

"You hit me," he said dumbly, probing his jaw for possible damage. Maybe he was stating the obvious, but nothing seemed obvious about this scenario anymore. There was no way he had misread her signals that badly, and no way he had imagined the way she had responded to his caresses. 

"Damn straight I hit you." She was obviously furious, eyes blazing, voice raised. "I tend to get a little irate when the man I'm kissing calls me by someone else's name." 

"What?" Casey said in disbelief. He was almost positive he hadn't done that, but a chill went through him at the thought that he might have said Sally's name instead. She had been the last woman he had slept with, and she was the one person he was determined not to mention in Dana's presence. "What are you talking about?" 

Dana was breathing hard, clenching her fists. "You called me Danny," she said hoarsely. 

The chill turned to a block of ice inside his chest. That was impossible. Completely, totally, absolutely not possible. "No, I didn't," he protested weakly. "That's ridiculous." 

"I know what I heard, Casey. What the hell kind of game are you playing?" 

"Come on, you're overreacting," he said, fighting down a wave of panic. "You heard me wrong. For crying out loud, every time I call one of you across a room, you both turn around." 

"Oh, I heard you perfectly well," she shot back. "You were moaning in my ear, Casey. In my ear. Your imperfect enunciation was not the problem here." 

He sagged back into the sofa. Blurred memories of the last few minutes flickered across his inner eye. "Oh, God," he whispered and rubbed his face with his hands. Never in his entire life had he been as embarrassed or as horrified by the duplicitous workings of his own mind. "I'm so sorry." 

She took a few halting steps and sank down onto the arm of the couch, stunned. "You're sleeping with Danny?" 

"No," he said with a vehement shake of his head. 

"But you have feelings for him." 

"I don't know." His hands fell helplessly to his sides as he stared up at the ceiling. Plaster and paint made a series of spider web patterns he could trace with his gaze in lieu of actually processing what had just happened. 

Dana seemed considerably more determined to pursue the subject than he was. "Does he have feelings for you?" 

"Yes." Hoarser than he intended it, his voice at least was steady for that one word. 

"This is just too bizarre," she muttered. 

"Tell me about it." 

"But... is this why you two have been on the outs?" 

"Pretty much, yeah." It was almost a relief to finally be able to tell someone, despite the whirlwind of mortification and confused emotions the revelation set off inside him. 

She was silent for a moment and he looked over at her to see her reaction. Her face was set, her eyes distant. "I just can't believe this," she said at last. "I can't believe you. You're sitting here kissing me while you're lusting after, after *Dan*, of all people." 

"Dana, don't take it like -" 

"What is this, Casey? Some last ditch attempt to prove your heterosexuality? You come in here and kiss me just to prove you can?" Her voice rose, her hands began moving, and Casey cringed. 

The worst of it was, he wasn't even sure he could convincingly deny her accusations. He would never consciously try to use her that way, but he found it impossible to explain the surreal melding of impressions in his mind in the moment he kissed her. Instead, he bowed his head and sat in silence. 

They remained that way for an eternity. He knew she was waiting for a response, but he had no idea what to say that she would accept. Thankfully, she broke the silence herself at last. "Just tell me that's not what it was, Casey. Lie if you have to." 

"It wasn't," he responded instantly, stung by her insinuation of dishonesty all the more because it was more true than she knew. "I would never try to hurt you. God, Dana, you know I care about you so much, and I've wanted... I wanted something deeper with you for a long time." 

Dana nodded and sniffled a little. The tiny, sad sound sent a wave of self-loathing over Casey even before she spoke again. "I thought you did. I thought I did, too, but I was never sure it was a good idea. It was never the right time; you never seemed ready for it. And now I'm thinking that it probably won't ever be the right time." 

"Dana -" 

"Not just because of this thing you've got going with Danny, whatever the hell that is. But after all this time... I just think that if this were meant to be, it would have happened fifteen years ago." 

Her gaze was sad when he met it, mirroring his own emotions. He could only hold the look for a moment before ducking his head again. "Maybe. Yeah." 

She stood up and walked toward the front door. "I think you'd better go now." 

Casey rose and followed her to the door without protest as she opened and held it for him. Just as he crossed the threshold, he turned back to her, unable to leave without at least making a small attempt to ease the damage he had just caused. "Dana, you deserve the best. Better than me, and sure as hell better than Gordon." 

Dana swiped at her nose and eyes before looking up and smiling weakly. "Yeah, I know. But Prince Charming seems a long way off right now." 

He bit his lip. "I'm sorry." 

"Don't, Casey. Neither one of us could have known." She started to close the door behind him, then opened it again enough to call after him as he started down the hall. "Casey." 

"Yeah?" 

"These feelings you have for Danny, whatever they are... they must be something serious if someone like you is even thinking about something like that. And I think maybe you'd better figure them out, before it's too late." 

He nodded mutely, and her door closed again with a firm thud. As he waited for the elevator, Casey leaned his head against the wall. What a monumental screw-up he had made this time. All he could do now was hope it wasn't too late for his relationship with either of his best friends. 

*** 

"...and so the vast majority of the Nigerian populace lives in poverty, with no power, no money, and with corruption and violence as a way of life," Dan said, looking gravely into the camera. "Former general Obasanjo has vowed that these conditions will improve under his administration, but many Nigerians don't believe change will come so easily. They've already seen too many governments come and go to have much faith in what, for Nigeria, has proved to be a corrupt and ephemeral institution. Bobbi, back to you." 

"And we're out," Natalie called from behind Steve. "Good job, guys. That's going to be a really good feature." 

"All thanks to our lovely and talented producer," Dan said with a grin. "Let's give her a round of applause." 

Natalie blushed as Dan and Steve clapped and whistled. "Thanks, guys. Now, let's get back to work. We've got to be at the stadium by noon for the first match." 

Dan fell in beside Natalie as they headed back to the dusty rented SUV truck they had parked down the street while they maneuvered to get both the run-down homes and the more distant oil wells into the shot. "You think that's going to be a little too political for Luther?" 

"It might not make the air tonight," she confessed. "But it was worth a shot. I think people need to have a background of what's going on here." 

"God knows it's more interesting than the actual soccer," Dan said. 

"You volunteered, remember?" 

"Oh, I remember." Not that he regretted it, either. It had been absolutely necessary for him to get away from Casey for a while, and he would have gone ravingly insane if he had been the one stuck back in New York, or even in the stadium studio where they had set up Bobbi. At least this kept him busy enough that he was only obsessing about Casey for about twenty hours out of the day. "Back to the stadium," he instructed the Nigerian driver their hotel had hired for them once they were all in the truck. 

The drive back was slow, as Dan was finally starting to get used to, and he stared out the window at the pedestrians who all seemed to be moving much faster than they were. He was doing his best not to keep thinking about his brief conversation with Casey the night before, but there wasn't much else to distract him. Soccer sure wasn't going to do it, and his indignation over the plight of the Nigerian people could only stay on high power for so long before his mind strayed again. 

It had been awkward, of course, but it had been like talking to Casey again. Like really talking to Casey. He had almost forgotten how good that felt. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance they could put all this behind them. Casey sounded like he might be ready to do that, and Dan was beginning to consider it as a real possibility himself. All he wanted was for things to go back to normal now. 

"What's going on?" Natalie's worried tone snapped Dan out of his reverie and he sat up straight. They were in the downtown business district now, where stores and office buildings replaced the dilapidated homes and shops of the outskirts. A strange noise caught his ear, a noise that was growing louder by the moment. Voices, crashes, and bangs that might have been cars backfiring or guns firing. People were running down the street, weaving in between the packed cars, occasionally shouting to each other or throwing a rock at a stalled vehicle. 

Their driver cursed vehemently in his native tongue, then pulled over and jumped out of the truck. "Hey!" Dan yelled out the window. "Where the hell do you think you're going?" 

The man looked up at him only briefly. "Get away," he said harshly, then took off running down the street. 

"Well, that's what we're trying to do," Dan said, slamming his fist against the back of the driver's seat in frustration. People were screaming and shouting now, jumping out of their cars or trying to squeeze past the rest of the traffic. He turned to Steve, who was sitting very still and looking as pale as a man of his complexion could get. "Do you have any idea what's going on here?" 

"It sounds like a riot," Steve said. "And a big one." 

Dan and Natalie exchanged a look. "This doesn't sound good," Natalie said. 

"Nope," Dan agreed. 

"It doesn't sound safe." 

"It absolutely does not sound safe." 

"But we are journalists." 

"Last I checked, that's what our visas said." 

His answer seemed to be enough for her, and she turned to Steve. "Are you up for this?" 

Steve shrugged. "Where else do we have to go? The hotel and stadium are both straight that way, right through the middle of the disturbance." 

"Okay, then," Natalie said. She chewed her lip nervously for a moment, then nodded decisively. "Let's go do this." 

They waited while Steve loaded his video camera, then they climbed down from the truck and headed down the street, fighting past clumps of people running the other way. Shattering glass and angry shouts greeted them as they met the mass of the riot, hundreds of people marching and chanting, shaking their fists. Several cars lay overturned and, on the next block, a building was in flames. Walking became a struggle upstream, and Dan grasped Natalie's hand tightly so they wouldn't be separated in the buffeting waves of agitated humanity. 

"Here," Dan called, stopping between two parked - or abandoned - cars at the side of the road in front of what looked like a bank building. 

Somewhat sheltered from the crush of people around them, Dan and Steve wired the microphone, then allowed Natalie to position them as well as she could to get a good view of both Dan and the worst of the rioting. Finally, she gave up and left Steve leaning over the hood of one of the cars while Dan stood in the space between them. 

"As you can see behind me," Dan started as soon as the camera light went on, "Lagosians have taken to the streets, evidently in protest of something, although from where I'm standing now, it's a little hard to tell exactly what it's about. We're in the business district of Lagos, a prosperous neighborhood relative to other parts of the city." 

Behind Steve, Natalie was motioning off to Dan's right, and he spared a quick glance over his shoulder. On the opposite side of the street, two burly men were dragging a third man from behind the wheel of his car. "Damn," Dan muttered, then turned back to the camera, shouting to be heard over the clamor. "As you can see, this has turned into a riot of violence and looting. Believe me, we wouldn't be out here, either, if we had any choice." 

He paused and listened for a moment. "I don't know if you can hear that," he said. His voice was beginning to hoarsen from shouting in the polluted air, and the piercing wail of the sirens sent a chill of real fear down his spine for the first time. "It sounds like there are an awful lot of sirens coming our way." 

Natalie pointed vigorously down the street and Dan followed her gaze, simply trying to describe everything as it happened. "Looks like the military police have shown up. Can we get a shot of those vehicles? We've got jeeps and some sort of armored trucks making their way down the streets, and I see soldiers with guns and batons moving through the crowds and trying to push people back. They're moving pretty quickly." 

Turning to look in the other direction, he was about to comment on the woman wailing next to her burning car when Natalie let out a wordless, terrified shriek. Dan whipped around to see Natalie struggling against a man with a length of metal pipe in his hand trying to drag her down the street with an arm around her throat while another man tried to wrestle the camera out of Steve's grasp. "Natalie!" Dan shouted and jumped over the hood of one of the cars. "Let go of her!" 

Snarling something Dan couldn't understand, the man raised the thick pipe threateningly and tightened the grip of his other arm around Natalie's neck, seemingly undisturbed as she kicked and scratched at him as best she could. Dan moved forward, but instinctively jumped back when the man took a vicious swipe at him with the makeshift weapon. For an instant, Dan froze with fright, until he caught Natalie's gaze. Tears of pain and pure terror trickled down her cheeks as she gasped for air. 

Knowing he was doing something extremely stupid and utterly unavoidable, he took two long strides forward and lunged for the pipe. His hand started to slide off the oily metal, and desperately he yanked on it until he could grasp the man's wrist with his other hand. A second later, he was almost pulled off his feet as the man furiously tried to disengage himself. He hung on, jerking Natalie's attacker off-balance until the man was forced to let go of her. She stumbled a few steps forward, doubled over coughing. Dan barely had time to see her stagger clear before he was ducking a blow that could have split his skull wide open. 

"Hey, I don't suppose we could talk about this, huh?" he said as he hopped backward, only to bump into another substantial body behind him. A second later, he was slamming into the wall of the bank, his cheek scraping against the cold concrete. He almost flinched at the next touch to his sore arm until he realized that it was Natalie, supporting him until he regained his balance. Keeping his arm around her shoulders, he straightened up and turned to see that their would-be abductor had found a buddy. A few feet away, Steve was dealing with his own problem, doing his best to pound a robber's head into one of the parked cars. "Look, guys," Dan said slowly, raising one hand in a gesture of peace. "We're not looking for trouble, here, okay? Just leave us alone and everyone will be happy." 

"I do not think so," said the second man with menace in halting English. He lunged forward and seized Natalie, ripping her free from Dan and throwing her with great force to the ground. Her head struck an iron-caged garbage can with a reverberating thud; then she lay still. 

Dan tried to dodge around them to get to Natalie, but a hard blow to his stomach sent him to his knees. A boot impacted into his side, then the pipe came down on the back of his head. Nausea washed over him as his vision swam in surreal patterns. With one last surge of strength, he dragged himself the last foot to Natalie and slumped over her, shielding her body with his own. He lifted his head to see Steve, free of his attacker and still holding his camera, shouting to distract Dan and Natalie's tormentors. 

Then his head fell down onto Natalie's shoulder blade and everything vanished into a sea of sickening blackness. 

*** 

Casey slipped into his office and shut the door with a sigh of relief. No one had noticed him come in, he thought smugly. Although his sneaky entrance had been accomplished due as much to the near-emptiness of the newsroom as to his skills at subterfuge, if the truth were told. 

After hanging his coat up and flipping briefly through the mail, Casey fell heavily into his favorite chair and let himself sprawl out bonelessly. His entire body ached with exhaustion and his eyes were so sore it hurt to close them, although he could not resist doing so. He had spent the rest of the night staring at the wall in his living room, his thoughts whirling in loops beyond any control of his. 

At least a hundred times. At the very least, that was how often, in the scant hours since he left Dana's apartment, he had relived The Incident With Danny. Capital letters, if he were inclined to write it down, because it was the moment that had dominated his life for almost three weeks. Even if he refused to think of it as anything more than a few words strung together that he just happened to be aware of during every waking hour. The reality of it was firmly shut away where he didn't have to deal with it. 

But then, sitting alone, with the sting of his own blunder and Dana's words still sharp, he had closed his eyes and let himself feel it again. Hazy warmth, soft laughter, and the deep comfort of being with his best friend. Total intimacy and, after a long time, the gentle brush of lips against his mouth. 

Shivering a little, even after all this time, he remembered the sensations that had run through his body as Danny pressed forward again, until Casey's lips had parted and the contact deepened into a real kiss. God, but it felt good, in his memory. He wanted more, to see what it would be like, if it would keep on being that good, but even as Danny's arms came up to embrace him, he was backing away. He had leaped up and shoved Dan away, as fast as Dana had distanced herself tonight. 

His own angry words echoed: "What the hell was that? What are you doing?" The unspoken words rang just as loudly between them. Casey did not want this. Why on earth would Dan think he wanted this? 

He wished he could forget how Danny's face had shut down, how all the warmth had left the room. Dan stood, grabbed his jacket, and made a beeline for the door. "I'll see you tomorrow," he mumbled without looking at Casey. 

Casey shouted after him, but Dan did not come back and Casey did not run after him. And the next day, it was the same. A wall of ice separated them; Dan refused to talk about it, and Casey could not bring himself to pursue the subject. Instead, the anger and bitterness grew, with no understanding of why. All he knew was that nothing was okay, and there was nothing he could do about it. 

He cracked his eyes open enough to look at the clock. It was mid-afternoon in Nigeria; Dan would be at the stadium for another couple of hours. But just as soon as he knew it was after dark there, Casey was going to do something about it. He was going to call Danny. And then they were going to talk, for a very long time, if necessary, and the penny-pinchers in Accounting could just go take a flying leap if they didn't like the phone bill. 

They would talk. Like they had been talking that night - open, intimate, perfectly in tune. Casey touched his lips with the memory; this conversation would not end the way the last one had. Assuming the laws of physics held, it couldn't. It was probably for the best, although Casey couldn't help but wish he had the chance to change what had happened then. 

Depending on what they said to each other today, maybe he would. If it was what they both wanted. 

A hesitant tap on the door interrupted his introspection. "Casey?" Kim called. He was tempted not to answer, even though he knew she could see him through the glass. "Casey, they need you in Isaac's office, right away." 

"What for?" he called back. He didn't budge from his chair; he would much rather sit here and continue contemplating what he was going to say to Danny until it was time to call. Work could wait, just this once. 

Kim didn't answer and a hint of concern wiggled its way into Casey's brain. "Something's happened with Dan and Natalie," she said just as he was about to demand an answer. "It sounds pretty bad." 

He sat absolutely still while a few of his internal organs tried to spontaneously rearrange themselves in his gut and his heartbeat became unnaturally loud. Then he was out of his chair and out the door before he even realized he was moving. "You said Isaac's office?" he shouted back over his shoulder at Kim. 

"Yeah," he heard her say as he ran down the hall. 

Jeremy and Dana were in with Isaac when Casey tore into the office, all of them turned away from the door, watching the television monitors. Dana looked up as Casey came in, her face pale and her eyes wet. "Casey," she began with a deep breath, but Casey was in no frame of mind to have anything broken to him gently. 

"What's going on? What happened to Dan and Natalie?" he demanded, glancing from one to the other of them. Isaac was in his chair, still staring at the TV monitors behind his desk as if oblivious to Casey's presence. Jeremy was standing, but looked as though he were going to faint. His hands were moving aimlessly, jerkily, and Casey knew then that it was bad. 

"There was a riot in Lagos this morning," Dana said. "It began as a student protest rally against the supposed corruption during the presidential elections, but it got ugly fast. Pretty much all of downtown Lagos was smashed to bits." 

For the first time, Casey noticed that the monitor Isaac and Jeremy were still watching was tuned to CNN. Images of burned out cars, smashed windows and screeching people flashed across the screen, briefly mesmerizing him. "Danny and Natalie... they were in that? What happened to them? Just tell me, already." 

"We don't know exactly what happened," Dana said. "We know they were out in the city filming a human interest feature and were on their way back to the stadium when the riot started." 

"Their driver apparently made it back to the hotel without them," Isaac added without looking at him. "He left them in the business district, just a few blocks from the main outbreak, but he doesn't know what happened to them after that." 

"He just left them there?" Casey said in disbelief. Isaac did not respond, and Dana merely looked at him wearily. He was certain that they had probably just had this identical scene with Jeremy, but he didn't care. They could just all go through it again until Casey had the answers he wanted. "He just left them in the middle of the riot?" 

Dana ignored his outburst and went on. "Steve Sansone - that's their cameraman - turned up in a hospital a couple of hours ago. They found him lying on the street and he's still unconscious. His camera was smashed, but the tape was still in it." 

"What the hell do I care about the tape?" Casey said. "Where are Dan and Natalie?" 

"They aren't in any of the hospitals, jails or morgues," Dana said matter-of-factly, although Jeremy flinched at the word 'morgue.' "Some of our people got the tape back when they went to check on Steve, and the people at the State Department say it may have a clue as to what happened to them." 

"They're uplinking it to us now," Jeremy said dully. No surprise that the only words Jeremy could manage right now were on the technical aspects of the situation. "We should be getting it any minute." 

"They said as long as there's no trace of them, that's still a good sign," Dana said with a pathetic note of false cheer. 

The implication was not lost on Casey. "So what would they consider a bad sign?" he asked harshly. "Mutilated corpses?" 

Dana stared at him in horror, and Jeremy, with a sickly color rushing into his face, gagged and ran out of the room. "Casey," Dana said reprovingly. 

"Sorry," Casey managed. She was right, after all. As long as they didn't find the bodies, the odds were Dan and Natalie were alive, and either being held hostage somewhere, as was common for Western tourists, or else were simply lost somewhere in the city. On shaky legs, he walked over to the chair next to Dana and sat down hard. "How long?" 

"Almost eight hours, now." 

"God Almighty," he breathed. That was too long. If they were hurt, trapped somewhere with no way to find help... he could barely think about it. 

The phone on Isaac's desk rang, and Isaac reached over to pick it up, his gaze never leaving the screens in front of him. "Jaffee," he said, then listened for a moment before switching to another line. "Chris, you have it? Okay." He went back to the first line. "We have it on tape now. Thank you." 

"What?" Casey said even as Isaac was still putting the phone down. "Do we have the video?" 

Isaac spun his chair around to face them for the first time since Casey had entered the room. "Yes," he said. "They sent it on satellite, and we taped it, as did the State Department on their end." 

A small tremor went through Casey. He desperately wanted to see whatever was on that tape, to know what happened, but, at the same time, he was well aware that there could be things on that tape he would be happier not seeing or knowing at all. When Chris, hands shaking and looking almost as ill as Jeremy, brought in the tape and handed it to Isaac, Casey's brain went on auto-pilot, simply counting the thumps of his heart in his ears so as not to have to think of anything else. 

"I forwarded it to the - the relevant portion," Chris said. As soon as Isaac nodded, he turned and high-tailed it out again. His obvious wish not to be in the room when his co-workers watched the tape did nothing for Casey's peace of mind. 

"Thank you." Isaac waited until Chris had gone, then put the tape in the VCR without comment. 

Casey could not move except for the adrenaline-triggered twitch he felt in almost every muscle. It was almost a shock to see Danny's face appear on the screen. He was standing on the edge of a street filled with violent rioters, and his voice was barely audible over the clamor of voices and the noise of destruction. For a brief time, Dan seemed to stand in an oasis, undisturbed by the violence that ebbed around him; then the camera veered wildly, and from the grunts of exertion and pain it was clear that the riot had found Steve Sansone. But even amidst the noise and nauseatingly swinging view from the camera, Dan's cry of Natalie's name was clear. 

Dana let out a soft moan of fear, and Casey reached instinctively to lay a comforting hand on her shoulder, even if he wanted to scream himself. The sight and sound of the fight were infuriatingly fragmented, until Steve hit his attacker over the head with the camera, and the view suddenly steadied for a moment, focusing closely on two figures lying motionless on the pavement just a few feet away. 

Dan and Natalie. 

His body was draped over hers as if to protect her, but Dan was clearly unconscious. Blood on his face, sweat and dirt dripping down his neck, his features utterly slack; he was a vision of pure terror for Casey. He heard a moan and thought it was his, until he heard it again and a distant part of his mind realized Jeremy had come back into the room just in time for the feature presentation. 

Before he could blink, the camera was zigging up and around again, as Steve took on new opponents. Then the picture broke up and turned to black. And, for Casey, the world ground to a complete halt. 

*** 

Dan felt slightly cold even though the room looked bright and warm around him. That seemed a bit strange, but he didn't mind all that much; it gave him an excuse to scoot just a little closer to his partner. Casey didn't seem to mind, either, from his smile and the way he himself leaned into Danny just a little more. 

"Danny," Casey began, but Dan was already bending forward and saw no great need to let Casey finish whatever he was going to say. Instead, he let his lips come to rest on those of his friend, pressing briefly in a soft kiss. Casey's mouth was soft and warm, and very nice to kiss, so Dan did it again, letting himself linger a bit longer there. The taste was pure Casey, although Dan could have had no way to know what Casey tasted like, before this. Still, he knew more about Casey than anything else in the world, and it seemed perfectly natural that he would know this, too. 

Suspended in the almost innocent eroticism of kissing his best friend, he failed to notice the change until the hands coming up to his shoulders seized him in a bone-crushing grip, throwing him backwards. The action was familiar to his blurred memory, but the hands were stronger than Casey's. Dan opened his eyes and stared with shock into dark eyes gleaming with malice in a dark face. He gasped, tried to scramble back just as the hands reached for him again. 

"Danny! Danny, wake up. Oh, please, God, wake up." 

He was still being shaken, but this time by smaller, gentler hands. Nothing but blackness met his eyes when he opened them, accompanied by a blinding pain in his head that, for an instant, made him fear a serious injury. Then the pain faded to a dull throb, and he realized he could barely make out the shape of the person bending over him. "Natalie? Is that you?" 

A loud sigh of relief answered him. "Yes, it's me. Thank God you're all right. I was afraid you were never going to wake up at first; then you started making these awful noises." 

"Bad dream." He hoped that, for once, she would leave it at that. Blessedly, she was silent as she helped him struggle into a sitting position. His stomach lurched queasily and he took deep breaths of the cold air until he began to recover both from the dream and the physical distress. "Where are we?" 

"I'm not sure." His eyes had adjusted just enough to the darkness that he could see the shrug of her shoulders. "Small room, no windows, except for one with bars set into the door. Which is locked, by the way." 

"Sounds like a jail cell to me." 

"Maybe. Never been in a jail cell with a dirt floor before, though." 

"Wow, Natalie, you got something you want to tell me about your criminal past?" 

Her punch to his arm hurt more than he expected it to, but he bit back his yelp of pain. No need to worry her just when he might have cheered her up a little bit. He accepted her hand to pull himself to his feet and began feeling his way around their new accommodations. 

The walls were concrete, and vaguely slimy beneath his cautious fingertips, but also quite solid without so much as a promising crack. The door was metal and did not show any signs of budging even when he threw his full weight against it. "Hey!" he yelled, and pounded his fists on the door. "Hey, someone want to tell us what's going on here?" 

"I tried that before you woke up," Natalie reported. "No answer, though I thought someone walked by a couple of times. I think we're stuck here until morning, at least." 

"Damn," Dan said. "I was hoping for room service. Luther must have downgraded us when he heard about the airline tickets." 

She forced a laugh. "Told you we should have stayed in coach." 

"Didn't hear you complaining when you were sucking down the champagne between London and Lagos." 

"Whatever." Her amusement was more genuine, and he smiled, too, even though she probably couldn't see it. As long as she held it together, he could, too. "I don't know about you, but I'm sitting back down before I fall down." 

"You okay?" He went to sit down next to her, back up against the rough cement wall. "You took a pretty bad blow to the head back there." 

"I don't think I have a concussion. But even if I do, there's not a lot I can do about it here." 

"Point taken." He was still wearing his jacket, although the pockets were empty, and he shrugged it off. "Take off your jacket." 

"Why? It's freezing in here." 

"Exactly my point." When she reluctantly complied, he moved as close to her as he could without risking a slap to the face and draped both jackets over them. "We'll stay warmer this way." 

With a near-hysterical giggle, she snuggled closer to him, putting her arms around his chest. "I won't tell Jeremy if you won't," she said as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders. 

"It's a deal." He sighed with a feeling as near to contentment as he was likely to get, considering the circumstances. Already he felt warmer, and her presence was greatly comforting, although he wished like hell that she was somewhere safe. 

"I'm sorry, you know." 

"For what?" 

"My first really big assignment, and this happens." 

He almost laughed with hysteria himself. "Nat, this isn't your fault. You can't possible take responsibility for a riot." 

"No, but I was responsible for you and Steve. We never should have gone into danger like that. We should have found shelter, gone into a building or something until it was over. Now, we're here and Steve is God knows where." 

"Like you said then, we're journalists." 

"We're sports journalists. We had no business trying to cover something like that. We're not CNN." 

"Well, next time we'll leave the heroics to Peter Arnett. But in the meantime, stop beating yourself up over it, okay? I'm sure Steve is fine, and we will be, too." 

She didn't answer and they sat in silence for a long while, her head resting on his chest as he stared off, trying to make out the walls that dimly defined the blackness around them. A wave of homesickness washed over him, an almost physically painful longing for familiar surroundings and friendly faces. "I want Jeremy," Natalie said suddenly, with a small sniffle, as if echoing his own thoughts. 

"I know. I want Casey." Horror filled him as he realized that the blurted words had come out in a downright plaintive tone, but Natalie was nodding against his shoulder, and if she thought anything of it, she did not say so. 

"I miss everybody," she said. "Do you think we'll ever see them again?" 

"Of course we will," he said firmly. "Either we've been thrown in jail for something, in which case they'll figure out the mistake and let us out in the morning, or else we're being held for ransom. That happens a lot to Western tourists in this part of the world, like Ntozake was warning us about. Either way, we're only valuable alive." 

"Yeah, you're right." She didn't sound wholly convinced, and he couldn't blame her. Westerners, even Americans, had been held and even killed by foreign police before. He couldn't remember if any of those cases had been in Nigeria, or even Africa, but he didn't doubt the possibility. And while he was fairly sure someone would pay a ransom to get them back, he had seen a few too many hostage movies to feel any sort of confidence in their ultimate safety. 

Silence fell around them again, broken only by the sound of their breathing. Eventually, Dan realized that Natalie's breath was coming in smaller, almost gasping inhalations. He brushed his fingers down the side of her face and they came away wet. "Nat? What's wrong?" 

"I - I'm just -" She couldn't finish her sentence, and he realized for the first time just how terrified she really was. 

He petted her hair soothingly as she tried to compose herself. Natalie was tough, and he knew she hated showing emotional weakness in front of anyone, even a close friend. "I'm scared, too," he whispered. "But it's gonna be okay. We're gonna be okay." 

"Jeremy did a lot of research about the crime and unrest over here," she said when she had suppressed her tears enough to allow for speech. "He didn't want to show me all of it, but I read on my own. I read what happens to women here." 

"God, Natalie," he said with horror. In his own male-centered perspective on the situation, he had never considered the possibility. "Don't even think about that." 

"And there was that episode of 'ER' a few weeks ago," she pressed on. "I didn't see it, but someone told me about it when they heard I was coming here. There was this Nigerian woman who was a dissident, and a group of soldiers, they - they gang-raped her." 

"Stop it, Natalie," he said fiercely, although he knew it would do no good. She needed to talk about it just as much as he needed to not talk about it. The very thought that something like that could happen to his friend was not to be entertained for a moment longer than absolutely necessary. 

She was crying again, and Dan felt as though his guts were being moved around without his permission. "When that football player - in the locker room - when he pulled his pants down, just for a second I thought that's what he wanted to do to me." 

"But he didn't." 

"But I thought he would. And I knew I couldn't have stopped him." 

"But you did stop him. He tried to hurt you and you stopped him." 

"This isn't the same," she said, and he had no easy response to that, since it was true. He simply held her as tightly as he could and rubbed her back until her sobs turned to hiccups. "I'm sorry," she whispered after a few minutes. 

"Don't ever apologize for something like that," he said sternly. 

"It was just overwhelming for a minute, to think that - that it could happen." 

"It won't," he responded with a fierce squeeze. "Not while I'm alive, Natalie. Nothing's going to happen to you while I'm still breathing." 

"Thanks," she said, then used his shirt sleeve to wipe her eyes. She seemed reassured, or at least a little calmer about it, but Dan found himself feeling completely impotent. He hadn't even been able to save her from being beaten and kidnapped - what business did he have making promises to her? She was one of the few people in the world for whom he would willingly risk his own life, but, in the end, even giving his life couldn't keep her safe. 

Natalie fell asleep after a while, curled in an awkward position against him that was probably going to hurt like hell when she woke up. At last, he fell into a fitful doze himself, floating among troubling half-images of Casey, Natalie, and dark monsters walking through fire with large clubs in their hands. 

*** 

Casey stared down at the array of papers on his desk. He was not working, nor even pretending to work; the papers were simply a convenient place to rest his eyes while he concentrated on not falling to pieces. 

Work was absolutely out of the question. He never missed shows. Even with colds, the flu, and strep throat he had done the show. The one exception had been the night he was delirious with a hundred and four degree fever, and Danny had taken him home and put him to bed despite his protests. But not tonight. He couldn't do the show tonight, and they couldn't make him. 

The petulance of the assertion helped anchor him, gave him something on which to focus his roiling emotions so that he wouldn't fly totally off the handle. He wanted nothing more than to scream, shout or break something large and heavy, but he was afraid that if he let go, he wouldn't be able to put himself back together again, not if Danny wasn't here to talk him through it. 

His fists clenched convulsively at the thought. Danny wasn't here. He wasn't where Casey was, which was a completely unnatural and abhorrent state of affairs in Casey's opinion. For the umpteenth time since that morning, he considered just getting on a plane, going to Nigeria to retrieve his partner and bring him back where he belonged; and for the umpteenth time he recognized it for the manic idea it was before he could make a fool of himself by actually trying it. 

The door opened and his head jerked up as Dana stepped in. She shook her head quickly before he could ask for news, and Casey took a shaky breath to dispel the adrenaline now rushing through his system. "Still no word?" he said anyway, just in case, just to have something to say. 

"Nothing new," she said. She wandered aimlessly around the middle of the room before finally settling onto the sofa by the windows. "They're still saying it's probably a kidnapping, and we'll hear something by morning, Nigerian time." 

"Dawn's still six hours away." 

"Six hours and twenty-four minutes, actually." 

"How is Jeremy, by the way?" 

She tried to smile, but it came out weak and unconvincing. "He's down in the infirmary. They finally had to sedate him." 

"Lucky Jeremy." 

"How are you doing?" 

How did she think he was doing? To truly describe how he was, he'd have to put his fist through the wall. He looked off to the side and did his best to keep his voice even. "I've been better." 

"I've already told Paul that he's going to have to do the show with Peter tonight." 

"Thanks," he said with real gratitude. That was the good thing about working with someone you had known for fifteen years; she knew exactly to the micron how far she could push him and where his capabilities simply ran out. 

"And then I gave the whole thing to Sally." Her tone was casual, almost bland, but his gaze snapped back onto her with surprise. 

"You what?" 

"I gave it to Sally." She stared back at him defiantly, but the defensiveness in her voice ruined the effect. "She can handle it, and I'm not in much better shape than you are, right now." 

"I'm not trying to say anything." He was careful to make his tone as soft as possible; he knew how hard she had taken his disapproval and perceived judgment the last time she had turned the show over to Sally. This, however, was a totally different situation, and even he could recognize that. "I just thought you'd want to be doing something." 

"I do," she admitted. "But I couldn't even pull together anything for the run-down meetings. So Isaac said I could either give it to Sally, or he was going to take it and give it to Sally for me." 

"Isaac's evidently the most rational one of us left." 

"He's not doing all that well himself. He loves Natalie, and you know how he feels about Dan. This is the last thing he needs right now." 

Casey nodded. Isaac and Dan had practically adopted each other from their first day of working together. Dan's deep admiration of the older man was returned with a paternal affection that, while extended to all of his staff, was especially strong towards Danny. And although Isaac had recovered well from his stroke, he did not need this additional burden. 

"I'm sorry if I came down on you too hard last night," she said after a few minutes of quiet. 

He had to think hard to remember what last night was and what had happened. "You didn't. If anything, you didn't come down hard enough." 

She was shaking her head. "I knew you were hurting, even before I knew why. I tried to take advantage of that, and it was wrong. It wasn't something a friend should do, no matter what the circumstances." 

"Dana, just let it go," he said with a small sigh. He had the distinct feeling that her feelings of guilt had a great deal less to do with him than they did with the current state of crisis. God knew he had enough pangs of his own to recognize the symptoms. "We can discuss it some other time." 

"They're going to be okay." 

His mind meandered off again briefly to wonder if she meant okay as in undoubtedly alive, sound in mind and body, or whether okay could also be construed as meaning okay in that even if they were dead, Dan and Natalie both had good enough karma that they probably wouldn't end up as salmon or chickens in their next lives. Abruptly, he came back to himself. "Do you really think that?" he asked her seriously. If she could believe it, then he would, too. But he needed something on which to anchor his faith. 

She hesitated just barely too long for her answer to be convincing. "Yes, I do." 

"Right." He could feel himself starting to come unraveled, and urgently wished she would leave so he could stare at his papers some more until his emotions came back within his control. 

"I do. They're smart, they're tough, they can take care of themselves." 

"In Nigeria?" Casey said with rising exasperation. "For God's sake, Dana, neither of them is cut out to deal with a situation like that. None of us would be. They're pampered, naïve Americans, and they have no business being over there at all." 

"They had a job to do," she protested. 

"No, they didn't. Going to Africa to cover some pissant soccer tournament that no one in America's even heard of, in a country that's a time bomb waiting to go off, is not their job. Dan's job is to sit next to me and anchor a nightly sports news show, and Natalie's job is to sit next to you and produce that news show. Fieldwork in Nigeria was never in their job descriptions." He felt his speech coming faster and faster until he was light-headed with the effort. 

"So you're blaming me for it?" She sat on the edge of the couch, her eyes blazing both with anger and tears. "Because I chose Natalie to go, and agreed with Isaac about Dan?" 

"No, I'm blaming myself!" The words burst out before he even knew they were there, and he heard them with as much shock as showed on Dana's face. 

"Good God, Casey, how in the world could this be your fault?" 

He looked down at his hands, noting with some surprise that they were trembling visibly. "Right before he left," he said slowly, keeping his voice carefully low, "Danny told me that the reason he was going was to get away from me. He said maybe if we had some space for a while, we could work through what happened and things would be better when he got back. If it weren't for me, he never would have gone." 

Slowly, she rose from her seat and came over to him. He ignored her studiously as she sat on the corner of the desk, and he flinched away when she reached out a hand to touch his face. "Oh, Casey," she said. "It's not your fault, you've got to believe that. There was no way any of us could have known what would happen or that they'd be right in the middle of it." 

"Danny's always right in the middle of everything," Casey said. His voice choked up when he tried to finish. "Him and his - his *stupid* human interest stories." 

Dana let out a sharp, hysterical giggle at that, and it was enough to crack through the last of Casey's emotional control. His face contorted against the first of the sobs that threatened to tear through him, and he lowered his head down into his folded arms to hide his expression from Dana. Every muscle in his body clenched against the onslaught of tears, until it was physically painful to breathe. The discomfort gave him a distraction to concentrate on, to immerse himself in until his mind succeeded in shoving the grief and guilt behind tenuously closed doors, where they could just stay until he was ready to deal with them. 

Her hand gently stroked the hair on the back of his head and down to the nape of his neck, and he slowly let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He lifted his head, but she didn't remove her hand until he looked up at her. Then she took his face between her hands and kissed the top of his head tenderly. "They'll be okay," she said one more time, before she stood up and slipped out the door. 

He found the statement even less reassuring the second time. 

*** 

A noise at the door jolted Dan from his uncomfortable sleep into instant alertness. "Natalie," he hissed and shook her shoulders. "Wake up. I think we're getting company." 

She mumbled something groggily, but he didn't have time to explain any further. The door creaked open as Dan jumped to his feet, grasping Natalie's elbows to drag her up with him. He backed up as far as he could in the small cell and pushed Natalie behind him just as a large figure stepped into the room. An almost imperceptible click was the only warning before a flashlight glared into Dan's eyes. He winced, but tried to keep his eyes focused on the figure to prevent any nasty surprises. 

"You are American," the intruder said in comprehensible, albeit thickly accented English. The voice prodded at Dan's memory for a moment before snapping into place: this was the second of the men who had attacked him, the only one who had spoken. At least now they knew who their captors were. 

"Yes," he answered warily. Natalie was trying to peer out from behind him, and he placed one hand on her waist to keep her sheltered behind him. 

"You have money?" 

A tiny ray of hope entered Dan's mind even as he unsuccessfully tried to squint through the light to read the man's face. Whether the man was acting alone or with his gang buddies, this might be their chance to buy their way out of here. "Not with us. Not here. But the people we work for, they have lots of money. We can give you money if you take us where we can contact our people." 

The man lowered the flashlight a moment later, and once Dan blinked the afterimage from his retinas, he could see the Nigerian was seriously contemplating the offer. "Yes," the man said finally. "I will take you, and get the money." 

"And then you'll let us go?" Dan said cautiously. 

Their captor grinned, a flash of white teeth in the dim light. "Why not?" Before Dan could let out his sigh of relief, the man pulled a large pistol from the waistband of his ragged trousers and Dan stiffened again, almost crushing Natalie back into the wall. But the man merely waved the gun in the air and beckoned them forward. "Come. Try anything, I shoot you both." 

"Okay, man," Dan said with his best attempt at a pacifying tone. "We're all cool here." He took a few steps forward and was grateful that Natalie was sticking close behind him, at least until the man made a lunging grab for her, seizing her arm and dragging her out from behind Dan. 

"Danny!" she shrieked. Dan made an abortive move towards them, but stopped when the man dug the muzzle of the pistol into Natalie's side. 

"Hey," he said from between gritted teeth. He was terrified and furious, but he was not about to let it show in front of their abductor. "This wasn't part of the deal." 

The man grinned again and nudged Natalie harder. "I make deals here. You try anything, she dies." 

He didn't have much of an argument to offer for that and lifted his hands in surrender. "No problem, dude. Where I come from, the guy with the gun gets to make the rules." 

The grin did not waver. "I like Americans. Now move. And silence." He motioned with his head for Dan to precede them out the door, and Dan obeyed. The man clearly had his number, and had found the perfect way to ensure there would be no foolish heroics. Not that Dan was one for foolish heroics in any case, but now he was going to be even more careful not to piss this guy off. He just hoped someone on the CSC team here would be able to come up with something to either placate their captor or to get them to safety regardless, once he could contact them. 

The corridors of wherever they were remained dark except for the beam of the flashlight, which the man used to indicate directions. Dan could barely see a foot in front of him, and made his way cautiously until they reached a large room with a screen door to the outside. The first glow of dawn shone dimly through the door and Dan felt an irrational sense of relief it was morning at last. They were far from out of danger, but they had made it through the night. 

Dan pushed the screen door open at the man's instruction and stepped out into a front courtyard that was mostly dirt, with one lone, dilapidated statue in the Neoclassical British style aloft in the center. They had made it almost halfway from the building to the statue when shouts came from the far end of the building behind them. Dan started to turn toward the sound, but the man shoved Natalie into him from behind. "Move!" he said, and shoved again until Dan was forced to break into a jog. "Faster!" 

Out of the corner of his eye, Dan saw two other men carrying rifles running toward them, still shouting something that Dan suspected meant the equivalent of 'stop.' One of them looked, from Dan's brief glimpse, like the man who had tried to snatch Natalie off the street the day before. When the newcomers fired off several shots in the direction, he realized they were really serious. His heart pounded and his brain froze. 

Dan reached the statue and their captor shoved both him and Natalie behind the pedestal, not letting go of Natalie's arm, but lifting the pistol in order to return fire. Bullets chipped the marble of the pedestal close to Dan's head, and he ducked down as low as he could. He tried to pull Natalie down with him, but the Nigerian refused to relinquish his grip on her. 

Natalie, however, yanked her arm out of his grasp. She threw herself down on the ground beside Dan just as their captor turned angrily to point the gun at them again. The world spun dizzily around Dan before dropping out from under him; time lost all meaning, as he knew with absolute certainty that this was the last moment of both his and Natalie's lives. 

The man's finger tightened on the trigger, but then his body jerked as a look of surprise came over his face and he slowly toppled over to the side. As he fell into the dirt, pieces of the back of his skull oozed down his neck and shoulder, spilling onto the ground barely an inch away from them. Natalie made a gagging noise, and Dan felt his own gorge rising. He had never seen violent death before, but the small part of his brain that was still rational was screaming that they were about to suffer a similar fate if they didn't do something. 

He seized Natalie's hand firmly and pulled her to her feet. "Run," he ordered breathlessly, and was profoundly grateful when she complied despite the white shock on her face. 

They sprinted blindly toward the street, heedless of the bullets that hit the ground around them. Dan kept a tight grip on Natalie's wrist and sent up a dozen frantic prayers. If they got out of this alive, he would be incredibly nice to everybody, especially his friends. Especially Casey. He would appreciate Casey a lot more. He would do whatever it took to mend their friendship, and would never bug Casey about anything ever again. Just as long as he could be alive to do it. 

Natalie started to slow down when they turned the corner, but he yanked on her arm to keep her moving, ducking down an alley and clambering over a rickety split-rail fence into a yard dotted with scraggly chickens. "Over there," Natalie said, and Dan followed her gaze to a small shack on the far edge of the yard. 

It had barely enough free space in the middle to hold both of them, but Dan had no intention of complaining as he pulled the ill-fitted door shut behind them. For a long moment, the only sound was the labored gasps of their breathing; then Natalie collapsed onto a bag of what must have been chicken feed. "Oh, my God," she said faintly. "Oh, my God, Danny. That man, those people...." 

"Yeah," he replied, sinking down to the ground in front of her and wiggling to avoid being speared by the wire rake propped behind him. He leaned forward to prop his forehead on her knees as he waited for the oxygen to return to his brain cells. 

"We're still alive," she said with wonder. "I can't believe we're still alive." 

"So far, so good," he replied. "Let's just try to keep it that way. My life will be worth less than this chicken feed if I have to tell Jeremy I let anything happen to you." 

She giggled a little, as he'd hoped she would, and bent to rest her head on top of his for a moment. They straightened up and Natalie had just started to finger-comb the tangles out of her hair when the door banged open. A short, round-faced Nigerian woman looked in and stared at them in surprise for a moment, then started yelling what were no doubt vile imprecations at them. 

"Hey, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Dan said, crawling to his feet and giving her his best innocent and apologetic look. "It's just we were running from these guys who were shooting at us, and coming here seemed like a good idea at the time." 

The woman frowned, then spoke in slow, but perfectly enunciated English. "So you were the cause of that ruckus just now?" 

"I'm afraid so, ma'am," Natalie chimed in as she stood up herself. "We were caught in the riot yesterday, and the next thing we knew, we were being held prisoner just over in that building there." 

"That's the old police station," the woman replied. "Abandoned for almost five years now, until those bandits made it their headquarters a few months back. They're vicious dogs. Don't judge our country by them. But don't mess with them, either." 

"Believe me, we have no desire to do either," Dan said with perfect sincerity. "Do you have a telephone? We need to get in touch with our people so they can come to get us." 

She shrugged and shook her head. "No, I have no phone, and no vehicle. You will have to walk to where you want to go." 

Dan heard Natalie's sigh and echoed it. "Can you at least tell us which direction the stadium is?" 

The woman smiled. "That I can do. Keep on the main road, go about five miles, then head east another three. You will see the stadium from there." 

"Eight miles?" Natalie hissed by Dan's ear. "Danny, I don't know if I can do eight miles right now." 

"Don't think I'm up to it, either," he said, then turned back to the Nigerian woman. "Do you mind if we stay here and rest, just for a few hours? I promise, we won't disturb anything." 

She frowned and shook her head. "No. You must leave now. If they come looking and find you here, they will take and destroy all I have." Her look softened. "Come, I will show you which way to go." 

Reluctantly, they stepped out of the storage shack and followed the woman around the side of her house. She pointed in between two houses toward a busy street just ahead. "There. Take that street. There are people, you will be a little safer. But if I were you, I would run." 

"We'll do our best," Dan said wryly. His entire body ached, and he wasn't sure he could run much more even if someone did start shooting at them again. All he wanted was to sleep and try to forget everything that had happened to them in the last twenty-four hours. "Thank you." 

"God go with you," she said, then turned to go back to her chickens. 

Dan and Natalie stared at each other. "Just a little further," he said. He hoped he sounded more encouraged than he felt. "Don't think about it, let's just do it." 

"Just promise me one thing." 

"If you collapse, I'm leaving you where you fall. I'm not carrying you eight miles." 

"Okay," she said agreeably. "Now promise me that you will never, ever tell Jeremy about that dead guy. Just... don't." 

He managed a faint smile and held out his hand for her to shake. "If we make it back alive, you've got yourself a deal." 

"Then let's go." 

They set off at a brisk jog down the narrow gap between the small houses. Dan's heart pounded as if he had been running a marathon at top speed and he looked around them almost convulsively, as if someone were pulling his head with strings. When they reached the street, he carefully scanned the area. No obvious thugs, nobody with a visible gun, very few people actually walking on the street at all. 

Shouts rang out from back the way they had come, and they jumped with fright, then moved hurriedly out onto the street, jogging as quickly as they could manage in the narrow gap between the traffic and the mix of houses and shop fronts along the side. They estimated the distance as near as possible, but the sun was soon high above them and Dan was starting to worry that they had gone the wrong way by the time Natalie spotted the stadium looming at the end of a side road they were crossing. 

Relief flooded him. Their hotel was either a few blocks nearer than the stadium or a few blocks further away. But either way, hot showers, warm beds and then a ride to the airport were only a finite distance away. And with any luck, no one else would shoot at them or try to kidnap them along the way. They were going to make it home. 

New York had never seemed so safe. 

*** 

"Casey? Am I disturbing you?" 

"No, Jeremy. Come on in." Casey's voice was mild and he didn't stir from his supine position on the couch. Staring up and counting the tiny holes in the ceiling produced a pleasant lethargy, he'd found, lulling him into a trance-like state where the time passed quicker. "What can I do for you?" 

"I just wanted to let you know we haven't heard anything yet." Jeremy sat down at the table and faced Casey. 

"I sort of figured we hadn't," Casey replied. The real world was starting to intrude on his awareness again, and he disliked the feeling. Reality had way too many things he didn't want to think about right now. And wasn't Jeremy supposed to be lying somewhere downstairs, mellowed out on a large dose of Valium? 

"Do you think they're alive?" 

Casey sighed and lifted his head just enough to look over at Jeremy. He loved Jeremy, but he had never understood the need some people had to turn vigil into ritual, nor did he have any desire to share this vigil with anyone else. "Jeremy, I don't know any more about it than you do. The State Department isn't feeding me any secret information here." 

"I just thought, you know, maybe you'd have a feeling." 

"A feeling?" 

"Yeah. You know." 

"Not really, no, I don't." 

Jeremy fidgeted in his chair, looking distinctly ill at ease. Casey entertained the brief hope that the other man would just leave. "I did some reading a while back," Jeremy said after a second, and Casey sighed internally. "It was about how people who are extremely close to each other sometimes know when something's wrong." 

"I know something's wrong, Jeremy," Casey said impatiently. Jeremy was really reaching, this time. "I don't need some psychic link with Dan to tell me that." 

"But sometimes they know when something's really, really wrong," Jeremy pressed. 

Casey sat up and stared at him in confusion. Then the meaning sunk in and Casey recoiled, shaking his head violently. "God, that's morbid!" 

"Sorry," Jeremy said, staring down at his clasped hands, and sounded contrite, if frustrated. "I just wish we could find out *something*." 

"I know," Casey said more gently. His instinct was to push Jeremy out the door so that he could return to his numb state, or at least be alone with his own anguish. But Jeremy was his friend, hurting as much as Casey was, and he felt he should offer some sort of comfort. "It probably doesn't mean anything, but... I don't think they're dead." 

Jeremy looked up sharply. "You don't?" 

Casey shook his head firmly. "I don't." 

"You're sure?" 

He started to snap that of course he wasn't sure, but stopped just in time. For once, Jeremy wasn't looking for facts or logic. "Yes, I'm sure." 

"Do you think you'd know?" 

Even for Jeremy, he couldn't outright lie, but he hesitated a moment on his answer. "I don't know. Maybe I would. It seems like I would. But then again, maybe it's just that I can't imagine the world without Dan in it." 

"Fair enough." Jeremy seemed to drift into his own thoughts and Casey took the opportunity to sit back on the couch and close his eyes until Jeremy spoke again. "I know I haven't known Natalie anywhere near as long as you've known Dan, but I think I know what you mean." 

He had already forgotten what his exact words had been. "About what?" 

"About the world. I can't imagine there being a world without Natalie." 

Casey tilted his head enough to see Jeremy still looking earnestly down at his hands. "Yeah." 

"I love her." 

"Yeah, I know." When Jeremy looked up at him in surprise, Casey smiled a little. "It's not exactly a huge secret." 

"I never told her." 

"She knows." 

"But I didn't tell her. It doesn't count if I didn't tell her. God, I even tried to break up with her." 

A pang went through Casey. There were dozens of things he had never told Danny, things that were understood between them but didn't need to be spoken. Not Jeremy's psychic link theory, but rather the bond of constant and loyal friendship, so deep that to put it into words would be to cheapen it and make it trite. 

Yes, it was love. He had no quarrel with the word, even if he was surprised to discover in his own mind how much the term could encompass within their relationship. It was not a word a man spoke to another man seriously, not without connotations Casey had never been ready to consider, let alone accept. 

Dan had accepted them, though, and with joy. For an instant, Casey felt ashamed that he had not been able to accept them himself with so little reservation; the next moment brought anger that Dan hadn't wanted to give him the time and patience he needed to come to that acceptance. 

"Then she has to come back." The words were spoken before he realized they were coming. "She has to come back so you can tell her. They both do." 

Jeremy looked at him with perfect understanding, although Casey couldn't help hoping the other man understood less than he thought he did. Their sober, though companionable, silence lasted only a minute before the door banged open, slamming against the wall with the force of Dana's entry. 

Tears were streaming down her face, and both Casey and Jeremy leaped to their feet. "Dana?" Casey said, heart in his throat. 

"They're okay," she said in a choked voice. "They're okay. They showed up at the desk of the Lagos Hilton a half hour ago looking for new room keys. Bobbi almost fainted when she saw them, then she called Isaac." 

Jeremy's knees wobbled, then gave out as he collapsed back into his chair. Casey closed his eyes with the intense rush of emotion running through him. He would be able to tell Danny after all. "Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you." 

When he opened his eyes again, Dana was still looking at him tearfully. She took the few steps forward into his arms and clung to him, crying in earnest. He embraced her tightly, buried his face in her hair, and finally let his own tears come. 

*** 

"Are they here yet?" Casey burst into the control room, still knotting his tie. 

"No, not yet," Dana said from her usual seat as she rifled through the pages of their rundown for that night. 

"I thought they were supposed to be here by now." 

Dana gave him an indulgent look over the tops of her glasses. "They're coming. The limo picked them up at the airport and they're on their way." 

"You talked to them?" Casey demanded. 

"I talked to Danny, yes." 

"You had Dan on the phone and you didn't send someone to get me?" He planted himself in front of her and ignored the amused looks he was getting from everyone else in the room. 

"He just called to tell me they had gotten through customs and were about to get in the car. We were only on for a couple of minutes." 

"The limo has to have a car phone," Casey said with what he thought was an air of perfect reason. After all, he had gotten to speak with Dan and Natalie only briefly before his friends had started the journey back. "Someone get me the number." 

Dana reached forward and lay a hand on his arm. "Casey, they'll be here in just a few minutes." 

"But I'm going to be on the air in five minutes." 

"Then you'll just have to wait for a commercial, won't you?" 

"Relax, Casey," Jeremy chimed in. "They'll get here." 

Casey glared at him. "I liked you better when you were on the Valium." 

Jeremy held up his hands. "Hey, I'm just saying." 

Just as Casey was searching for a snappy retort, Elliot stuck his head in the door from the studio and breathlessly shouted, "They're here!" 

Within seconds, the control room cleared and Casey spun around, buffeted by his co-workers pushing to get out the door. He trailed after them, looking easily over most of their heads to see Dan, Natalie and Bobbi standing just beyond the anchor desk, already surrounded by the studio crew. "Steve's fine," Dan was saying. "He took a couple weeks off to go visit family over there." 

Dana shrieked, running forward to jump into Dan's arms, and Jeremy already had Natalie in a tight embrace, but Casey stood motionless several feet behind the pack, completely stunned by the sight of his best friend. It was one thing to know Danny was okay, even to speak to him across the ocean. It was one thing to plan out everything he needed and wanted to say. But it was turning out to be quite another thing to be faced with Danny's actual physical presence. All his doubts flooded back with doubled intensity. 

The enormousness of what they had both gone through since the last time they had seen each other was finally sinking in. Casey's heart raced and his throat went dry. Everything had changed, and, he had assumed, for the better, but now he realized he had no way to be sure. Not yet. And he was terrified that he had been wrong. Nothing he had wanted before had turned out well. If this was really what he wanted at all, and not just a reaction to the danger Dan had been in. 

"Danny saved my life," Natalie was telling Jeremy, and Dan was doing his best to pooh-pooh the notion that they had been in any danger while dealing with his armful of Dana. A small smile played over Casey's lips as he watched his friends, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Isaac standing over to the side, doing the same thing Casey was. Watching his family. 

A shift in the crowd around the arrivals drew Casey's attention back, and suddenly he found himself standing with a clear path between him and Dan, only a few feet separating them. Dan was looking at him, brown eyes filled with a deep emotion Casey needed to identify but was fearful of mistaking. Although his gaze was focused on his partner, Casey knew everyone was watching them, waiting to see how the final chapter of this saga would play out. 

Dan stood perfectly still, obviously waiting for Casey to make the first move. With a herculean effort of will, Casey forced himself to take a step forward and, swallowing past the dryness in his throat, held out his arms hesitantly. 

All the breath went out of him when Danny took two halting steps toward him, then rapidly closed the distance between them. Then his arms were closing around his friend and his face was pressing into the crook of Danny's neck. He felt Danny let out a shuddering breath and heard the soft murmur in his ear. "God, I'm so glad to be home." 

Casey nodded mutely, one arm tight around Dan's waist while the other hand clutched at the back of Dan's head to keep him close. It felt unspeakably good, unquestionably right, to have Danny here, his body solid and warm in Casey's arms. 

Letting go was almost painful, but he managed it when his partner pulled back a little. Danny didn't go far, and kept his hands lightly on Casey's upper arms as he brushed a shy kiss against Casey's cheek. Nothing inappropriate between best friends, but it sent a rush of warmth through Casey's body. "I have to do the show in a minute," he managed to say. "But if you want to stick around, I could give you a lift home afterward." 

He held his breath waiting for the answer. There was no reason in the world Danny would need to stay here for another hour when there were a half dozen more convenient means of transportation at his disposal, but Casey hoped he would say yes. That he would want Casey to take him home. 

"Sure," Dan said with a smile that barely quirked his lips but made his eyes glitter in the studio lights. "I can hang out." 

"You're nuts," Bobbi declared from behind Dan, breaking the mood. "I'm getting a cab." 

A smattering of laughter went through the crowded studio, then Dave's voice boomed out from the loud speakers. "Thirty seconds to air." 

Before Casey could blink again, everyone had scattered to their various posts. Reluctantly, he pulled completely free of Dan. Peter was already in place, and Casey had not even glanced over the script yet. "Don't worry," Dan told him, with what would have been a grin if Dan hadn't been so visibly weary. "I won't go far." He stepped back to find a seat behind the cameras, leaving Casey to take his place at the anchor desk. 

"So everything's okay now?" Peter asked him as he sat down and put his earpiece in, and Casey realized he had what was undoubtedly a stupid-looking grin plastered across his face. 

"Yeah," he told his - blessedly temporary - co-anchor. "Everything's just fine." 

*** 

_You can't always get what you want_   
_But if you try some time_   
_You just might find_   
_You get what you need_   
_ --The Rolling Stones_


End file.
